Chapter 3: Plainsriders

"Fira sadum?!?" he yelled, knife at the ready. I hastily threw my hands up, and said, "I- I don't mean any harm." He frowned, and said, "Tun fira- I mean, who are you? Why are you here?" "My name is Arthur, Art for short. I was walking and came across this place," I said, hands still held high. He muttered to himself for a while, pacing back and forth, and eventually turned to face me again. "Come with me, my father will be able to tell if you are a threat better than I. And put your hands down," he ordered, and I complied. He began sprinting across the plains, moving like the surrounding grass. I nearly lost track of him several times, even with Haste accelerating my perception and the brightly colored feathers bobbing behind him. It was hard to keep up, too, regardless of the fact that he was moving slower so I wouldn't fall too far behind. After a while(and a significant number of breaks), a large gathering of tents occupied the plains in front of us.

"Come, it is time to meet with dul falen - my father," said the teen, coming to a stop. "Three things you must remember - First, as an unknown outsider, you have no authority. Speak when spoken to or not at all. Second, they may ask to see your memories. This will let them know if you mean harm to our people, and if you refuse, we will send you away. If you wish to stay in friendly relations with us, don't refuse. Third, and most importantly, DO NOT, under ANY circumstance, draw your blade. Some will take that as a provocation and kill you. Do you understand?" "Yes, I do," I affirmed. "Very well, this way," he said, and led me towards a tent located roughly in the center of the camp. As we passed, a few of the people turned to call out to my guide, "Alu fira?" to which he responded, "Sa ko. Falen en ko." Eventually we arrived at the tent, and the teen called out, "Falen, meis aale?" A moment later, a deep voice boomed out, "Meis eali." The teen led me inside.

As I stepped into the tent, stooping to get past the doorway, I saw a small fire, with 5 men sitting around it. Each man had different feathers in their hair, and tattoos covered each man, most concentrating on their arms. They wore only a pair of hide pants and moccasins and had long hair. The biggest among them opened his mouth, and said, "Outsider, I am sure my son has told you what we are about to ask. May we see your memories?" Nervously, I agreed. A small, older man beckoned me over, as his tattoos began to glow, forming a swirling pattern around his arm leading to his palm. "Sit down, sit down. This will take a little while," he said, and I did as he bade me to. Then he placed his palm on my forehead, and the world around me faded.

Images flashed by, from as far back as I could remember up until now, including the "accident". I saw again my sorrows, joys, problems, and solutions, as they passed and more took their place. After a while, I noticed the older man next to me, hands behind his back, watching. He smiled and beckoned me over, where I sat and watched with him. Eventually, we reached the point where I reached their tent, and he nodded and said, "Good, you have no ill intent toward us. Let us return." And so, we did.

I opened my eyes, and heard the older man say, "He has no evil intentions towards us or our people. I say we let him in." The others thought for a while, before agreeing. "For as long as you are a friend to us, we shall be a friend to you," The large man said with finality, and he reached into a nearby basket and pulled out two white feathers, handing them to me. "Keep these, they mark you as a friend of the Plainsriders. Fadum! Endum!" The teen entered the tent, saying, "Al, Falen?" "You will guide this one around the camp, answer any questions he has. Understood, Sumaite?" "Yes, Falen," the teen said, turning to me. "I am Sumaite, Thundering Horses in your language. Your name?" "My name is Arthur," I said, "It means bear." "A good name. Follow me," he said, leaving the tent.

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